


Take Only What You Need From It

by CaesarVulpes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Also HP has a LOT of dicey shit in it if it comes up I will fix it lol, Autistic Peter Lukas, F/F, Gen, HOGWARTS AU BABEYYYY, M/M, Professor Simon "Mad Bastard" Fairchild, The Buried - Freeform, chapter 2 is just about how i read canon Peter as extremely ND, dyslexic Peter Lukas, i think this is what id fic is, my books now, my city now, not chronological, werewolf Daisy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaesarVulpes/pseuds/CaesarVulpes
Summary: A Magnus Archives Hogwarts AU long overdue. Snapshots & drabbles which are, to be honest, mostly Kids Supporting Each Other plus magic. Title from “Kids” by MGMT
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Jonathan Sims & Alice “Daisy” Tonner, Martin Blackwood & Peter Lukas, Simon Fairchild & Peter Lukas
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114





	1. Entombed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been weeks since the full moon, since Daisy broke free and ran into the Forbidden Forest. He can’t just leave her.

Everyone had told him not to go looking for Daisy. Every teacher, every classmate, even Basira, Daisy’s _partner,_ had told him to stay out of it. It’s been weeks since the full moon, since Daisy broke free and ran into the Forbidden Forest. He can’t just _leave_ her.

The Devil’s Snare moves its vines again, just slightly—not enough for Jon to breathe any more, but enough to see a sliver of yellow scarf and pale face.  
  
“I’m sorry, Jon,” Daisy hisses, weak and strained as the vines squeeze down again. “I know I’ve been horrible.”

He wants to say it’s not important but it kind of is. She’s been a bully, plain and simple, all the time he’s known her. 

“Is it you? Or is it the Wolf?”

”Both, I guess? Feels good, to be cruel, to be scary. Feels strong." The tiny sliver he can see of her freckly face contorts. "I—I just...I know they’ll hate me anyway if they find out what I am. m-Might as well not even try.”

”I don’t hate you, Daisy.” Jon presses his fingertips into hers as hard as he can before he Devil's Snare contracts around them and pulls them deeper once more. Daisy whimpers and it tries to pull them apart but through the pain and the crush he doesn't let go. He doesn't know how long it is before it lets up again.

Daisy's golden eye peers out at him through the tangle, bloodshot and shiny.

”h-How long have you known?”

“What, that you're a werewolf?" He hisses, wriggles as much as he can while he can. "I’ve always known.”

She’s quiet for a long time after that. He knows she’s alive only by the pained sounds she makes and the sound of her labored breaths, muffled as they are by the thicket of vines. 

”I don’t want to do it anymore,” she finally whispers. “I don’t want to be that person anymore but now I’m scared I’ll never have the choice.”

“You will,” Jon says, and tries hard to mean it. 

He tries, many times, to get free. For all Elias’ bluster about how special his wandless talents are, his attempts to hex or cut the vines are feeble at best. The one time he manages a flame, the vines recoil but he gets lost when the heat reaches his scarred hand. Panics, lets it flicker and die, and the vines slam back into them with a vengeance. He even tries to cast enough of a Patronus to fetch help, but not once does the silver mist wobble into even a vague cat shape. 

He’s useless without his wand, they both are. Apparently all he’s good for is invading people’s privacy.

In the end he’s so dizzy with hunger and fear that he almost misses the twinkle of silver at the edge of his vision. 

“Daisy,” he gasps. Wheezes as clear as he can. She whimpers something inquisitive, rough fingers twitching against his. 

“Daisy, I, I see something.” 

He manages to turn his head just enough, just barely, and there it is. A silver hare, nibbling at the vines. One snaps, and then another. 

”Take my hand.”

”I can’t—I can’t reach, I—”

It takes no thought at all to wriggle deeper until his hand closes around her wrist. 

”Got you!”

It’s maddeningly slow, wiggling them backwards out of the thicket. He can’t stand up yet, but the vines get looser as the strange Patronus bounds around them in loops. Scares the Snare away from its light. 

“This way, Daisy, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Squirming backwards on his belly while dragging a much larger girl, is one thing, but apparently standing after so long is quite another. So he lays there, panting, dirt in his mouth, for a few precious minutes, Daisy’s hand clasped in his.

The hare leads them out slowly. They both have to lean on trees most of the time, wobbly as they are. Daisy can barely walk at all.

It’s almost dawn by the time they see the edge of the forest. The silver hare bounds around them once, twice, then out of sight.

”Jon!” 

Christ, but he’s never heard Basira this angry. Red-eyed and red-faced, still in her pajamas and dressing gown with her glasses askew, though her Ravenclaw-blue hijab is impeccably arranged as usual. 

From here, he can also see Melanie, also in her pajamas, and Martin...Martin in his robes. Martin, sleepless and tear-stained. Martin, with the silver hare at his feet. Jon’s heart does a little swoop. 

Basira stalks forward, brandishing her finger as though it were her wand. 

”You stupid idiot! Bloody Gryffindors, what were you—“

She stops mid step. Dark eyes wide. 

”Hi,” Daisy says, sheepish.

”Oh my god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:  
> -Jon has a talent for wandless legillimancy, and Elias is an older student who’s supposed to be teaching him to control it  
> -Basira is referred to as Daisy’s partner bc she’s nonbinary


	2. Special Needs

Simon doesn't exactly _mean_ to keep an eye on the new Lukas boy.

He notices him, at first, when he's sorted, because he's expecting to have him in his house. Most of the Lukases he's known have been Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Mostly Slytherins, lately, so he’s hoping to break the streak.

The name rings out: _Lukas, Peter,_ and Simon watches the quintessential little Lukas clone shuffle up to the stool. Plain and pale, with big ears and mouse-brown curls no-one seems to have taught him to brush properly, and those distinctive gray eyes. His are heavy-lidded, giving him a perpetually bored look at odds with his trembling hands.

The Hat takes a full minute to digest, and then:

" _Hufflepuff!"_

Huh. He has to admit he's intrigued. The close-knit community of the Hufflepuffs seems anathema to a Lukas. Perhaps this one will be, at the very least, entertaining.

Peter does end up attracting his attention, but not in the way he expects. Despite his house, he seems to still be the model Lukas, shy and withdrawn. Simon supposes he'd have to be, being the only one of his generation to make it to eleven without being shipped off and re-named.

It's simple, in the end, what draws his eye. Peter is merely struggling in his class. Astronomy can be tricky, especially for first-years not yet used to its formulae, but Peter doesn't have any trouble with memorizing planets or constellations, or the composition of moons. His papers are passable, though his handwriting and spelling are awful, but he fails every written or practical exam spectacularly and lags behind in lessons. He suspects Peter has trouble reading, but takes Simon months to realize that's not all.

One night, a beautiful clear night in December, with all his little ones bundled up against the chill, Peter outright breaks his telescope. Simon's already watched him fumble with his astrolabe for half the class, his little face going steadily redder with frustration, until he finally manages to snap a knob off his telescope. Simon almost wants to laugh, but Peter looks so terribly miserable that he refrains.

Then he watches Peter absolutely give up. Shut down. Withdraw, and stay there in his little isolated spot, far from his classmates, staring numbly at his incomplete chart until the end of class.

He feels quite silly for not noticing sooner. He's had plenty of students struggle with the instruments, though rarely as completely as Peter. He's been teaching for almost a century, for goodness sake.

He keeps Peter late, that night.

"Ah, a moment, Peter?"

And Peter freezes where he's been shoving things moodily into his bag. Doesn't even look at him, just nods at his shoes.

"I'm sure you know you're not doing well in my class. I've heard you're struggling in all your classes."

Another stiff nod. Peter's shoulders are creeping up towards his ears and his freckly nose is all scrunched up.

"Can you tell me what the problem is?"

Peter shakes his head stiffly. His little hands clutch the sides of his robes like he's trying desperately to keep them still.

"I'm going to guess. Does that sound good?"

Peter nods again, slowly, but his gray eyes lift to somewhere around Simon's chest. Progress, and Simon's beginning to think Peter might not be able to speak right now. He's getting the start of a shape to a lot of things.

"I think you just don't understand the instruments, and I think most of all you have trouble reading."

Peter flinches. Shrinks, clenches his fists so tight they shake.

"I--" He grinds out. Which may be the first time he's ever heard Peter's voice. "I'm not stupid. I--I just don't--I..."

He's shaking in every limb, now, like a little leaf in the wind.

Simon shushes him. He wants to reach out and touch him, but Peter's probably not been touched gently, or touched at all, since he was a baby. He's practically still a baby.

"I'm not calling you stupid, dear, I would never. If you're struggling--"

"I’m sorry, I can be better, I'm just not trying."

Tears stream down those flushed cheeks. His eyes are screwed tight shut, his poor abused robes on the verge of tearing.

"I think that's not true either." Simon crouches to his level. "I think you're trying very hard. I think you're a smart boy who just needs help."

He shakes his head furiously.

"I don't need help. Lukases don't need help."

”Everyone needs help sometimes, Peter. Now, let me ask you something else. When you try to read, what happens?"

Peter curls tighter, tighter, as though expecting recriminations any minute.

"I...I just. I..."

"Does it look like the letters move around?"

Peter's gaze flicks up to his face, but doesn't land anywhere.

"How do you know that?"

Simon misses the old generation, the first Lukases. How is this boy supposed to grow into a scion of the family if they don't give him the tools he needs to succeed? This new generation has grown lazy. 

"It's called dyslexia, Peter. It's not common, but it's certainly not unheard of."

And the boy absolutely crumbles. Sobs so wretchedly Simon can’t help but touch his shoulders, squeeze him gently. The pressure helps, because of course it does, he hasn't even touched the tip of what he suspects Peter's needs are, and after he’s cried himself hoarse Simon bundles him into his office. Leads him in where it’s warm and there’s a stash of chocolate frogs waiting for just such an emergency. 

He resolves to keep a closer eye on Peter. He’s not sure he could bear to see this one hollowed out and scraped Lukas-empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some thots & onions:  
> -canon Peter reads so super autistic to me, as u probably know if youve read some of my other works  
> -he also reads dyslexic  
> -this is sort of a fix it where Peter has any chance at a support network/normal life bc his family is forced to send him to magic boarding school  
> -i love simon he also teaches flying and if he's ooc just. shhhhhhhhhhh my city now


	3. Trust

It’s not that Martin didn’t know Peter had meltdowns, exactly. He’s been tutoring Peter in astronomy for two months. He’s even seen one, or the beginnings of one, though Professor Fairchild ushered him away once Peter started to really spiral. From what he’s gathered, Peter’s are a little different from Jon’s—Jon seeks out a nest, a cramped squeeze on all sides, where Peter needs to hide and space to breathe. If Jon’s episodes are a nuclear explosion, Peter’s are the silence between sirens; an overwhelmed Jon reacts with rage, but an overstimulated Peter withdraws. 

Martin just doesn’t know why Peter wants him there this time. 

”You’re sure?” He asks again. “I mean, I believe you, Professor—“ 

“Oh, do call me Simon, _Professor_ is so stuffy. And yes I’m quite sure. He asked for you by name.”

Simon leads him to a dusty, disused classroom. Peter’s curled in the back corner, hidden behind a cluster of desks. Hidden, too, in his robes and yellow house scarf, so that all Martin can see of him are mousy curls, and bloodshot gray eyes, and sky blue trainers.

(The trainers were a present from Simon, who says he’d been so blindsided by an actual personalized gift that he’d avoided him for two weeks.) 

“Here he is,” Simon says brightly but quietly, and Martin’s not sure who he’s talking to.

”Are you okay, Peter?”

Peter sniffs, raises a shaking hand. This is a signal he does know, as Peter’s sometimes nonverbal by the end of the day when Martin sees him. They’ve even worked on his sign together, as he's apparently only just learning. Martin's really starting to get the feeling he doesn't get a lot of support at home.

”No words?” Simon asks, still gentle.

Peter shakes his head weakly, curls tumbling.

”Can you tell us what it was?” Martin asks.

Peter raises his hand in the hooked fangs of _snake_ and makes two little circles under his left eye.

Elias. Of course it’s Elias.

”What’s he done now?” Simon asks.

Peter sinks deeper into his scarf. Signs _Elias_ again with trembling hands. Then pauses, and follows it with _more_ and _forgot word_ , with a frustrated, angry flourish _.  
_

“That’s okay,” Martin says, gentle as he can. “D’you want us to wait with you until you can say?”

Peter nods, sniffs again, and after a moment Martin hears another weak sob. 

Simon hops up and perches on one of the desks—spry for such a wizened old man, but Martin’s seen him fly enough times not to be surprised. Apparently he’s still one hell of a chaser.

”No rush, dear boy,” Simon says. 

Martin watches him closely. He wants to know what to do. Peter may be baffling, and sort of a bastard, but he’s not as entirely awful as his choice of boyfriend would suggest. He deserves for someone to be here for him. 

(He can even be kind, in a quiet sort of way. Sweet. Sitting by Martin when Martin knows he’d rather be alone, remembering things Martin said. Little things.)

Peter sobs quietly into his knees for a time, then begins to rock, then begins to uncurl. They get it out of him in the end. He’d broken another telescope and Elias had laughed at him. And, Martin gathers, told him he was stupid. Maybe a joke, but Elias knows damn well Peter’s sensitive about this.   


Martin really hates Elias. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey you you I don’t like your boyfriend! Not because I’m jealous he’s just an asshole!
> 
> Featuring:  
> -did I make it clear that Martin’s in slytherin? It’s been approximately four hundred million years and I can’t remember.  
> -Elias is a terrible bf  
> -Martin’s tutoring a boy like 2 years above him half because he panicked and lied about tutoring experience to Simon and half because Peter is still lagging a bit behind. It’s fine, he’ll get there.  
> -Also I’m autistic and aspec all character experiences are based on my own or ones I’ve talked to others about


End file.
